


Creatures of Comfort

by Solnze



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Explosions, Fluff, M/M, Sexual Content, really the full package, some swearing I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 11:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16345937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solnze/pseuds/Solnze
Summary: "The thing is, Arthur was there. Arthur was there when the job went south and he was there for the ridiculous mexican standoff. He was there when Eames used all his grandeur and swagger at the exact wrong time and got clogged in the head for his troubles. And he was there when the explosion went off. And so of course now he's here, sitting next to a hospital bed nursing his fifth coffee in a row."A story about losing your hearing and losing you heart and meeting the relatives, but all in good time.





	Creatures of Comfort

The thing is, Arthur was there. Arthur was there when the job went south and he was there for the ridiculous mexican standoff. He was there when Eames used all his grandeur and swagger at the exact wrong time and got clogged in the head for his troubles. And he was there when the explosion went off.

And that's still in his head. The slow motion of Eames unconcious body being flung sideways over the concrete by the force of the detonation. And then his head connecting back with the ground and an unreasonable amount of blood dripping from his ears. In full technicolor. It's a miracle the other man didn't get his face burned off.

But yes, the thing is that Arthur was there and so of course now he's here, sitting next to a hospital bed nursing his fifth coffee in a row.

Eames is completely out, hooked up to numerous machines and tubes and most of his skin is an angry red. Arthur doesn't like seeing him like this. Not just because it's unnerving to see someone you've been trading sloppy handjobs with some eight hours ago look so... dead. But because Eames has been a reliable constant in Arthurs life for a very long time. More than Cobb will ever be and more than even Mal used to.

Arthur is etching the word 'fuck' in a very elaborate, three dimentional font into his moleskin when he hears a familiar groan. When he looks over the edge of his notebook he can see the tightness around Eames closed eyes. Not fully awake yet, but not asleep enough to ignore the pain anymore.

"Hey." Arthur says and then lightly kicks the bedframe when the other man won't answer.

It startles Eames into opening his eyes and the idiot has the audacity to smile at him. After being clogged in the head in a mexican standoff and exploded all over the place. In a job that could've been perfectly managable had someone kept their fucking sarcasm in check.

Arthur tells him as much but Eames is still blinking hazily and smiling up at him.

"You're an idiot." Arthur stresses. He should give up on trying to lecture Eames. The man has proven time and time again that he is incorrigible.

Eames gestures him closer with his hand and because Arthur is incorrigible as well he scoots his chair as close as the room allows and leans in.

"You gotta speak up, love." Eames mumbles. His speach is slurred and Arthur can imagine the horrible ringing in his ears, drowning out all other sound.

"That's what you get for starting a pissing contest with the man holding a gun to your face." Arthur says and he would be laughing if he wasn't still very angry... A little angry. Mostly relieved to be honest.

Eames eyes are searching his face before he cracks up even more and asks "What?" in a voice inapropriately loud for a hospital.

"I said," Arthur replies just as loud, "that's what you get-" but then he stops himself. Because Eames isn't smiling anymore. He's watching his mouth intendly and brings his hands up to his ears. His heart monitor is picking up speed, the incessant beep beep beep galopping faster and faster while Eames expression slips into panic.

"Calm down." Arthur says, "There was an explosion. Do you hear the ringing?"

Eames, predictably, doesn't calm down. "I can't hear you!" he pratically shouts, gesturing to his ears for good measure.

"I know." Arthur says. "That's normal. There was an explosion. Do you hear the ringing?" He asks again, louder, gesturing to his own ears.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU, ARTHUR!"

"I KNOW! DO YOU HEAR THE RINGING?"

"I CAN'T- I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"THE RINGING, EAMES! DO YOU HEAR THE RINGING?"

"WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"DO YOU- this is ridiculous." Arthur interrupts their shouting match to press the emergency button. Which turns out to be unnecessary because a nurse comes bursting through the door the next second. It's comforting to know that an irregularly fast heardbeat as well as two grown men shouting at each is enough to alert the hospital staff.

"I CAN'T HEAR HIM!" Eames directs at the startled woman in lieu of a greeting.

"Oh. We were expecting something like that." She says. "We're not certain it's a permanent condition yet."

"WHAT?" Eames yells. He has started rubbing his ears and the nurse gently guides his hands away.

"What do you mean 'permanent condition'?" Arthur says, massaging his temple. Eames has stopped yelling but now he's making drawn out shrieking noises while turning his head this way and that.

"Well," the woman checks over the machines and fiddles with a tube connecting to Eames arm, "his tympanic membranes ruptured and while there is a high chance of Mr. Eames regaining his ability to hear, we can't be sure of the scar tissue that will form. It could limit or even prevent his full recovery."

'stop it you moron!' Arthur writes in his notebook and throws it at Eames chest. He huffs an offended breath at the message but does, thankfully, stop.

"What kind of odds are we looking at here?" Arthur asks.

"Sorry, sir." She says, edging out of the room without giving him a reason why she doesn't tell him. "I'm sure there will be a doctor available to speak with you soon. "

"Wonderful! Thanks!" Arthur calls after her sarcastically.

Eames hands him his notebook back.

'how long have I been out?' It says.

'roughly 5 hours' Arthur writes back.

'have you been sitting here this entire time? bc you look like shit. not that I wouldn't still tap that.' Arthur just stares at Eames, which apparently prompts the other man to take the moleskin back and sketch a cartoonish version of a naked Arthur next to his text.

"I hate you." Arthur says out loud and Eames scribbles a little 'no you don't' under his doodle.

Arthur is tempted to write something along the lines of 'you will never hear again because you are an insufferable human being' but he doesn't. Instead he writes about talking to a doctor about his healing process and getting another coffee.

Eames waves him goodbye when Arthur leaves him with the moleskin. He get's another coffee and a bag of skittles from the vending machine and wanders down to the reception. And after a very frustrating 90 minutes of talking to various medical staff he returns to Eames room.

Eames is dozing, the open notebook face down on his chest. When Arthur takes it he can see that his naked doodle self has a naked doodle Eames beside it with tiny hearts drawn around them. He surpresses a smile and starts writing.

'ruptured eardrums & burned skin.  
recovery period: at least 6 weeks  
chances of fully recovering your hearing: 80%"

Underneath that he puts his current address and a question mark behind it. Because what is he gonna do? Leave a deaf man to fend for his own? That's barbaric.

He puts the moleskin and the bag of skittles on Eames nightstand and starts on booking a cap for early tommorrow morning, when he will most likely be released.

 

*****

 

They arrive in his flat and Arthur immediately disposits Eames on his couch. Eames still has some bad scabs and slightly burned skin, which is ridiculous, concidering any closer to the explosion and he would've been in the middle of it.

Arthur puts down some aloe vera lotion and the tv remote in front of him. Eames expression slowly morphs into a lewd grin.

"No." Arthur deadpans, but Eames purses his lips and holds out the lotion and Arthur considers that the poor man won't be able to reach his own back so he relents. And that leads to more sloppy handjobs. A reoccuring theme between them in the last few weeks.

When Eames comes his rythm on Arthur doesn't falter and he's so close, so goddam close, every other breath turns into a low moan. Eames looks at him with furrowed brows before nodding uncertainly at Arthur. Arthur nods back, a little more enthusiastic than he likes to admit, but it makes Eames smile and grip Arthur a bit tighter and that's just right and he comes and comes and it's disgusting because now his cum has mixed with the lotion on Eames arm and just - no.

Eames tries to wipe it off but he just makes it worse and Arthur sacrifices his own shirt so the mess doesn't drip on his couch. And then, apparently, he pulls a face at it because Eames bursts out laughing. It's still a bit too loud, but nothing like it was in the hospital. Because he's not panicked now, Arthur thinks. He's calm.

"Shower?" Eames whispers, more careful with the volume of his speech now. Arthur shows him a video of a guy stuffing cotton dipped in lotion into his own ears to keep them from gettin wet and Eames settles on washing up at the sink.

He rummages through his closet until he finds something for Eames to sleep in and puts it down on the couch. There's also a very nice pillow and a blanked in the living room. But Eames does not seem inclined to show up anytime soon.

Arthur stalks back to his bedroom and Eames is snuggly lying on his mattress. Don't get him wrong, it's a nice sight but they don't... do that. They don't share a bed. This isn't a relationship, they have a mutual attraction going on and they like each other well enough to get a little hot and frisky during their working hours, whatever.

"Eames." Arthur sighs. The other man is deliberately looking in another direction. "I know you know I'm here."

Then Eames turns towards him and makes a big show of acting all surprised to see him there. He lifts the covers up and pats the mattress besides himself, inviting Arthur into his own bed.

"Are you kidding me? I prepared the couch for you!"

Eames stares at him without showing any reaction and when Arthur starts gesturing towards the living room he helplessly points to his ears and stage whispers "Sorry, I can't hear you." Then he pats the mattress besides him again with a hopeful grin this time.

"Eames." Arthur repeats, more sternly. "The couch."

"I'm deaf." Eames shrugs. "So sorry, love."

"Sorry my ass." Arthur mutters as Eames starts making suggestive handgestures at him. And yeah ok, Arthur goes to him because he will not argue with the most brilliant con man in the business and also because he is only human.

That results in the third round of sloppy handjobs in 48 hours and a relatively good night's sleep. Eames is out right away, his fingers still down arthurs pants and so Arthur does the barest minimum of cleanup he can get away with and lies down next to him.

He's forcefully woken just a few hours later, when Dolly Parton starts blaring from tinny speakers somewhere in the room. It takes Arthur an embarrasingly long time to figure out that it's Eames phone and that the fucker still has an alarm set for 5 am.

"Eames." He groans and get's no reaction at all.

"Eames!" This time he kicks his shin and Eames startles awake and squints at him. He's obviously confused as to why Arthur would wake him in the middle of the night, before his gaze shifts questioningly in the direction of Arthurs crotch.

"Oh, for fucks sake, YOUR ALARM!" Arthur only realizes after shouting at him that it won't have any effect, so he makes the international telephone gesture with his hand. Eames replies with the international blowjob gesture which is entirely inappropriate and also frustratingly in sync with the beat of 'Nine to five'.

"I can't believe you." Arthur mutters while getting out of bed. Eames is still sucking imaginary dick and pouting at him until Arthur retrieves the phone from Eames pants and throws it at his chest.

Eames sees his alarm and starts laughing like a maniac. Arthur points at the phone sternly until Eames turns it off and then gets back into bed. He won't be able to fall asleep again, he just knows it. Eames is still cackling besides him and breathes a pittying little "Oh, darling." and does the blowjob gesture again but Arthur plants his hand in the middle of the other mans face and pushes him away.

Eames catches his wrist and smiles and kisses his palm before he lies back down. He's sleeping like a log not ten seconds later, his snoring a soft background noise for Arthurs frustration. So then Arthur decides to do something productive and cancels most of his jobs for the next two months. He tells himself they are low profile jobs and he's been meaning to take some time off anyway but he would've probably cancelled inception for Eames.

After that it's 6 am and he might as well start on his morning routine. So he gets up for a run and then takes a shower and then skips his usual breakfast of plain joghurt and fruit to make pancakes and bacon for the both of them. He's considering wether bringing Eames breakfast in bed would be too cheesy when the man stumbles into the kitchen.

He's bleary eyed and frowning. Apparently, the last of the hospital meds have left his system. Arthur almost feels sorry for him.

"Coffee?" He asks, holding up a steaming cup and raising his eyebrows at Eames.

Eames drains the cup in one go and Arthur writes 'do you need more meds?' on the notepat he put on his counter.

Eames shrugs.

'Ibuprofen?' Arthur continues.

'don't wanna be an inconvenience.' Eames replies and wow. What an idiot.

Arthur brings him two pills and a glass of water and writes 'I'm off work for a few weeks so no worries.' Eames doesn't look too happy about that but immediately cheers up when Arthur offers him a plate of food and they retire to the couch.

They watch a french movie with english subtitles and Eames is snoring on his shoulder before the credits roll. Then Arthur finishes his current book. Then he gets some snacks and shuffles Eames around so he can lie comfortably on the couch with the other man on his chest. Then he catches up on The walking dead. Then when he runs out of things to do he concludes that having time off sucks.

"You seem antsy." Eames says when he blinks awake, his words slurring together a bit.

Arthur glares down at him. He'd like to say it's not Eames fault that he is stuck in his flat now but it is. At least a little bit. Eames senses his anger and Arthur feels bad because Eames already feels like a burden and it's not like he's the reason Arthur doesn't know how to relax.

"Oh Arthur," Eames purrs, reaching for his fly, "all work and no play..."

Arthur catches his chin before he has the chance to go to town and says "I don't want you to pay me in sexual favours because you think you are a burden on me. I chose to take care of you."

Eames stares blankly because he didn't hear a word of that, obviously. How does Arthur keep forgetting that? He reaches for the notebook lying on the coffee table to write down his statement, which leads to the crucial mistake of his hands leaving Eames face which, in turn, leads to Eames going to town. And they've always done this. Arthur is making a big deal out of nothing. He'll get Eames off right after and then it's fair. Even steven.

Except, when Arthur comes, dick down Eames throat and his hands fisted in the other mans hair, Eames pulls of agonizingly slow and then crawls up Arthurs body to lazily reclaim his spot on his chest. He shows no sign of intention to do anything but sleep. He actually catches Arthurs hand when he reaches for his crotch and redirects it to his hair.

"No offense," he slurs into the fabric of Arthurs shirt, "but your low budget painkillers just ain't doing the trick, love. So if it's all the same to you, I'm gonna take another nap, yeah?" His eyes have already closed half way through his sentence and when Arthur starts petting his hair it takes no time at all for his breathing to even out.

 

*****

 

So that's how they spend the first two weeks of Eames recovery. They laze around the couch in sweatpants. Arthur consumes more snackfood in that time than he has in the entire last year and they go through three bottles of aloe vera lotion but at least Eames skin doesn't peel off... not too much, anyway. Arthur finishes all of Game of Thrones, the books as well as the show, and Eames blows him between lenghty naps.

Arthur did write his opinion on blowjobs out of gratitude down eventually and Eames laughed at him saying "I wanted to blow you all times of the day before all of this happened, so if anything, I'd have to give you gratitude blowjobs for letting me give you blowjobs and that would lead to a vicious cicle of dick sucking and we'd never get anything done." And you can't argue with that.

Sometime during the third week the phone rings alarmingly early in the morning. Arthur chooses to ignore it because he's on top of Eames, fisting their dicks together and frantically pumping his hand. They haven't left the bed yet. Their beards are rubbing together where they are breathing heavily into each others ears. Eames is gasping beneath him, his hands on Arthurs ass pulling him closer, closer and his fingers travelling between his cheeks, lightly pressing on his hole and that's Arthurd undoing. He muffles his groan against Eames shoulder and then rests his head there while he continues wanking him off. Eames keeps kneading his ass and Arthur smiles and licks a stripe up the side of his throat, sucking at the skin beneath his ear and Eames comes arching up against his chest.

Arthur keeps sucking on his throat because... this is nice. And he's glad he gave up running in the morning if it means this instead. But of course, easy mornings are just not meant for him and the phone doesn't stop ringing and when he looks at the number he groans internally and externally, apparently, because Eames looks at him wearily.

"What." Arthur answers the phone.

"Cammarun. Next month. Are you in?" Is the court reply he gets.

"What the-" Arthur starts, but is interrupted when Eames flips them over. He pretents he didn't just yelp right into the speaker to keep some dignity and just continues talking. What are the odds that Cobb noticed anyway? "Cobb, you can't call me at the crack of fucking dawn like this!"

"I literally don't know where you live and it's late afternoon somewhere right now."

Alright, he's making a fair point, but still. "Cobb." Arthur sighs and Eames eyebrows drop into his usual Dominic-Cobb-frown™ before he burries his face in Arthurs neck.

"C'mon Arthur, Eames will be there! It'll be just like old times, huh?" Arthur is pretty sure Eames is not going to be there. At least, it never came up. And it's something you'd expect to come up at least once. _Thanks for looking after me, but I have a job in Cammerun so cheerio, mate!_

Or something like that.

"I'm not sure how to react to the fact that you try to lure me into a job by telling me Eames is going to be there. Anyway, I'm taking some time off so it's a no from me." Arthur tells him. Cobb keeps using the same old trick since he caugh Arthur staring at the brits ass once.

Cobb is going of about the great team they make and that he will owe him a favour or something now. Arthur doesn't really catch his response because Eames lips have travelled from his neck to his nipples.

"Hm?" He says after a while.

"I said," Cobb repeats exasperately. "you don't even know how to spell vacation. Why are you so adverse to working with me?!"

The last question makes a tense silence settle over them. Arthur is not sure if Cobb wants him to answer, but he knows if he does it won't be pretty.

So he waits.

And Cobb waits.

And Eames keeps laving at his pecks until his phone starts flashing on the nightstand. They had figured out the deaf settings after four very frustrating days of Arthur throwing the thing at Eames everytime he failed to realize it was ringing.

Eames grabs it, looks at the screen for a few seconds and then a hearty laugh rips out of him. He shows the screen to Arthur and sure enough, Cobb sent him a text.

Cammarun. Next month. High pay. Call for details.  
-Cobb  
P.S.: Arthur will be there.

Arthur sighs. Cobb is an idiot.

"Listen," he says, "right now I'm off work." Then pauses because Eames has lost interest in his phone and is kissing around his navel and down. "I don't know about next month but -fuck- I..." Eames mouth has reached his destination and he swallows him down in one go. To the very hilt. With Cobb on the phone. "I'll see what I can do." Arthur gasps, "But it's not a yes, so don't get your hopes up! And now I have to hang up, I'llcallyoubackbye!" His last sentence slurrs into one long word and he hastily presses the red button to end the call.

"What the fuck!" He says to the ceiling. He tries to glare down angrily at Eames but catches sight of his swollen lips streched around the base of his dick and there goes that plan. The fucker has the indecency to blink up at him innocently while he swallows around him.

Later, after breakfast, Eames says "We should take it."

Arthur looks at him startled.

"The job." Eames clarifies. He's taken to carefully pronouncing his words so they don't end up all slurred. It makes him sound incredibly posh. Arthur would be lying if he said it wasn't a major turn on to have Eames sound like the prince of fucking England while he's whispering depraved things in his ear.

'You hate Cobb.' Arthur writes. And then he adds a question mark when Eames doesn't answer. He's pretty sure he hates Cobb. Always has, even before the inception, before Mal jumped, way back when they first met he had already had a strong aversion to the other man. And that happens, Arthur doesn't like everyone he meets. But then the aforementioned things occured and the careful truce between them had crumbled away.

Eames and Arthur once had a big fight about him, with Arthur defending Cobb and Eames getting really fed up and shouting _'Letting yourself be used by him won't bring her back, Arthur!'_ They hadn't spoken for half a year after that but Arthur saw his point. Cobb wasn't Mal.

And still they are sort of friends. The kind of friends where one is taking the other for granted and the other is unable to say no to his dead best friends widower.

Anyway, Eames has never had a problem with turning Cobb down and so his sudden change of mind is a bit confusing.

'Why?' Arthur writes down wearily.

"Well..." Eames stretches the word out, gesturing between them. "We look like slobs."

Arthur gasps, deeply offended. If there is one thing he is not, it's a slob, thank you very much. But then he looks at himself in the reflection of the fridge door and yeah ok. He's grown a bit lazy since Eames... moved in.

He's wearing sweatpants. And this morning he just grabbed a muscleshirt from the ground that has been circled between the two of them for at least a week without seeing the inside of a washing maschine even once. Neither of them has shaved in ten days which resulted in Arthur having a healthy amount of stubble and Eames looking like a rugged lumberjack. He's also foregone slicking his hair back since it's his time off and Eames did manage to show him how to relax.

So he's standing barefoot in his kitchen, his hair curling around his ears, his shirt obviously worn to hell and back, with a beard for the first time since his seventeen year old self was convinced he could grow a mustache, eating frootloops straight from the box.

"Fuck." He says at his slobby, slobby reflection.

Eames pats his cheek and chuckles. "Don't worry, love, I'd still shag you. I will in fact, later today. But this just doesn't seem like you."

'You're deaf.' Arthur writes down. It's pretty good, as far as objections go. 'How are you going to forge a voice?'

"Darling, the job is in one month. I should be good to go in two, maybe three weeks. And you need to get out of the house more."

Arthur hesitates. He hasn't been holed up in his flat for three weeks straight in... well, never actually. He just doesn't mind with Eames. They don't usually make time for each other like this. Or at least they haven't in a while. Back when this started between them they hung out more. But they were younger than. Life got in the way. That's how these things go.

But even when they were practically living together for two glorious months when Arthur was 25, they went out. They went on not-quite-dates all the time. Should he bring that up now? Should he suggest a not-date? Should he bring up their past at all? Oh man, doing anything other than eating and fucking is stressfull.

'Do you want to do anything today?' He writes down and passes the note to Eames.

"You." Is the immediate reply accompanied by a small chuckle.

'No I'm serious, what do you usually do during your time off?'

"I don't know." Eames says, looking around the room. "Whatever I feel like I guess. What do you usually do?"

Arthur clicks the pen to write an answer but he honestly can't remember the last time he was free for more than an afternoon.

When he hesitates for too long Eames eyebrows draw up and he says "Oh, Arthur... How about we start with a shower?" Arthur is about to point out that his ears shouldn't get wet when Eames interrupts him, "Yeah, you can even stuff cotton in my ears."

'Thanks!' Arthur writes and hopes the sarcasm transfers on paper.

 

*****

 

The shower is pretty uneventfull, considering they have been going at each other like rabbits for three weeks straight. Arthur is standing in front of the mirror, rediscovering his skin care routine now that his cheeks are bare again, and catches Eames wrist just in time to keep him from shaving.

Eames gives him a side look, razor still in his hand, before turning fully to him. "Tell you what," he says, "I keep the beard if you keep the locks." His grin is lewd and Arthur realizes the correlation of the increased hair-pulling that has been going on and him not using any product.

Arthur looks at his reflection. He always thought the hair made him look childish but he's not twenty anymore. He's not fresh from the army, he doesn't have a reputation to build. Maybe he can afford to look a little younger.

"Yeah, allright." He says and nods and Eames puts the razor back down.

Then there's the matter of getting dressed in something that isn't sweatpants. Eames doesn't have any clothes at Arthurs place and they managed to find him jeans that fit but Arthurs sweater streches tightly over Eames pecks. Not that the Pointman is complaining.

Arthur himself is digging through his closet because he's sure he owns a pastel sweatshirt he bought when he had to lay low in Paris for a month when Eames starts digging into his clothes as well.

"That's..." He starts, pulling an army sweater from underneath an old henley. "That's _mine_."

"It's not." Arthur replies reflexively.

"Listen, love, I can't hear you but I'm pretty sure you're trying to deny that this is _my_ army sweater." Eames is fumbling around with the hem while Arthur tries to shove the thing back between a denim shirt from 03 and his sports clothes.

"C. Eames!" Eames proclaims victoriously, pointing at the army issued name tag stitched in the back. "This is my sweater! You fucker, I thought I had lost that!" he's laughing, thrusting the sweater at Arthurs face while the other man stands perfectly still.

He's trying to find a suitable distraction before Eames starts thinking about why Arthur would have his sweater. What would he answer to that? _Oh you know, I just wanted something to remind me of the guy I'm fucking but not dating because I like him but not too much, not in a romantic way anyway it was great knowing you I'm going to jump off a cliff now._

He's brought back from that very horrifying and embarrasing scenario by the stillness that has settled in the room. Eames is looking at him, still holding the sweater, licking his lips and saying "Why do you have my sweater, Arthur?"

Arthur is looking around the room now, frantically trying to think of an explanaition that doesn't make him look like a lovesick sixteen year old. When he comes up short he falls back on the blowjob gesture, hoping it would deterr Eames enough to drop the subject.

But Eames leers at him and steps closer. "With pleasure, darling," he purrs, " _if_ you wear the sweater." Weirdly enough, that thought sends actual shivers down Arthurs spine. Which Eames notices because that is literally his job and also because he knows Arthur.

"Come on, cadet." He says, very close now, as if he didn't know that Arthur was on board already.

Arthur takes the sweater.

Eames fucks him into the mattress, one big hand fisted in the back of his own sweater, pushing Arthur down, arching his back further. And Arthur is gasping into the pillow with Eames pistoning in and out of him like a maniac. It's weird that they've never done it in their army clothes before. As far as kinks go, that one should've been pretty obvious.

After, they are lying next to each other on the bed and Arthur is satisfied for obvious reasons but also self satisfied because he is the master of distractions. Or not, because Eames turns to face him and starts fiddling with the hem of the fabric again.

"You kept my sweater..." He muses, to noone in particular. Arthur doesn't look at him.

"Did you sleep in it?" Eames asks, laughing, before he's interrupted by his own epiphany. "Did you wank off in it?!"

Arthur doesn't answer that but Arthur also doesn't have the best pokerface. He knows he has tells, he just doesn't know what they are. But Eames knows. And Eames spots them now and he giggles, giddy with the non verbal confession.

"Aw you did, you pervert." He says and when Arthur looks at him his eyes are crinkled at the corners, his full mouth stretched into a smile. And because Arthur is still only human he kisses him and through the kiss Eames says "Arthur... You _like_ me." like it's a shocking new revalation. Like Arthurs twenty year old self was as good at hiding his emotions like he was at hiding that damn sweater.

What would his twenty year old self say, knowing that years and years down the road, he still gets to kiss Eames? He still get's to fuck him and he still gets to wear the stupid sweater that will always smell of Eames no matter how many times it's been washed?

They do go out, later. It's only to get Eames some clothes that fit and also to buy groceries but it's a start. And leaving the flat with Eames is nice. Everything with Eames is... nice.

 

*****

 

A month into their deafness induced liaison Arthur starts dreaming again. Not fully formed dreams, but flashes of shapes and colours and more often than not, Eames. Eames face, Eames lips, Eames crooked teeth.

Usually he goes under at least two times a week, to check up on layouts or try weapons or rebuilt the shambles an incompetend architect has left behind. He never missed dreaming naturally. And now that he has it back he doesn't like the implications his subconsciousness is making about his emotional state.

Eames starts dreaming again too if Arthur is to judge by his restless turning at night. He never knows what to do when the forgers nightmares get too bad. On one of those occasions he shines his phones flashlight into Eames eyes until he wakes up.

"Bloody hell, Arthur, couldn't you just shake me awake?" He demands blearily.

Arthur just raises his eyebrows. Their paths didn't cross much in the army, not until the very end at least, but Arthur is sure Eames was in the same seminar about approaching panicked soldiers without warning and anyway, they watched an episode of Grace Anatomy a few days ago were a doctor is almost choked to death by her army boyfriend when he has a flashback. So.

"Yeah, yeah." Eames relents and sighs, throwing an arm across his eyes. Arthur spends a few moments just looking at him before he settles back down. He thinks the other man has fallen back asleep when Eames suddenly speaks up again.

"I was a bloody good soldier." He states. He doesn't follow that up with a story or anything, really. It's just what it is. He was a bloody good soldier. They all were, until they weren't. Until their dreams and ideas grew to big for a government funded defense squad and they were left with a discharge and nightmares and too much violence in their blood.

Arthur hesitantly touches his fingers to Eames chest. He can only make out his sillhouette in the dark but his full lips are pressed together tightly, his throat bobs once, twice, his chest rises and falls irregularly. Arthur presses his hand down flat and Eames entire body curls towards him with a heavy sigh. Arthur curls around him in turn. He can give Eames comfort. He wants to. Even though it's something new and fresh, sharing moments like this that leave no space between them.

As they lay in the dark, Arthur thinks of the day his dad took him to the zoo when he was nine. One of the workers there had explained to him that otters hold on to each other in their sleep so the water won't pull them apart. He tightens his arms around Eames and breathes.

They are still wrapped around each other the following morning, which means Arthur is gently awoken by Eames ramming his head into Arthurs chin and cursing like a sailor about it.

"Fuck." Arthur mumbles and rubs his chin.

"Fuck." Eames unknowingly echoes, feeling around for some life threatening injury at the top of his head. Then he looks at Arthur, his eyes are a little red.

"You ok?" Arthur asks and presses a thumb to the corner of one of Eames eyes. The other man nods and kisses Arthurs palm lightly before rubbing a hand over his face. So that is probably a no.

Arthur pouts and moves his hand in a handjobby way until Eames laughs and throws a pillow at him. "Fuck off, mate, wanking me off doesn't fix everything!"

Arthur squints in return. "Alright," Eames amends, "but it doesn't fix this."

'nothing to fix' Arthur writes after climbing half on top of Eames to recieve the notepad from the nightstand.

"Well the dearest Misses Tuppence Addington-Eames would beg to differ." Eames huffs in responds, his mind still somewhere else. When Arthur stares questioningly he elaborates. "My mum... Have I never told you my mums name?"

'you haven't even told me your name' Arthur states.

Eames sputters, indignantly. "That is a blatant lie!"

'you told me the C stands for casanova!'

"And you didn't trust me, all those years." Eames wails, clutching at his chest. "You wound me, darling!"

'I'm sure you'll manage, casanova.' Arthur shoots back and laughs.

Eames smiles, searching his face. "We've known each other for a long time, huh?"

Arthur nods and presses their mouths together, because of all the things he isn't going to do, having a conversation that starts with we've known each other for a long time with his not-boyfriend-not-anything-else-either kinda tops the list.

 

*****

 

At one point Eames does choke him, just not in a life threatening I'm-having-flashbacks kind of way.

Arthur guesses it's a kink thing, lots of people seem to like it. But from what he's seen the choking is mostly about dominating and Eames is in no position to dominate him right now, his knees are pressed against his own chest and his ankles are crossed behind Arthurs head. Also, the hand on his throat doesn't apply any pressure, which Arthur thought would be an essential part of choking someone.

When he looks down questioningly Eames taps his ear with his free hand. It takes a while for Arthur to get what he means, but when he does he makes his next thrust hard and deep and accompanies it with a heavy moan. As soon as Eames feels the vibrations of Arthurs throat against his hand, his eyes roll back and his gasping mouth twitches into a smile. Arthur smiles too, because Eames is nothing if not a considerate lover.

After that it becomes sort of a thing for them. When Eames is sucking him off his arm snakes across Arthurs torso to splay fingers across his throat. When he's behind Arthur on the bed or on the couch or on the breakfast bar or wherever in the flat really, his big palm covers his adams apple in a gentle grip. Arthur isn't sure if he's starting to get into it or if he's just associating the gesture with toe curling orgasms by now.

Either way he is getting progressively louder during sex because it gets Eames going which, apparently, gets Arthur going as well and the result of that is a noise complaint signed by Arthurs direct neighbors as well as the tenants one floor above and below his flat. Eames thinks it's hilarious and pinns it to the fridge like a cherished family portait by a five year old.

Arthur is less amused about the whole hing but he can't stay mad at Eames when he starts kissing his neck, still giggling to himself. "If your neighbours are so prudish maybe we should move." he says, nosing behind Arthurs ear. And Arthur doesn't really register that until much later, when he hops back off the kitchen counter to right his clothes and his knees barely hold him.

Maybe we should move. Eames said maybe _we_ should move. As in together. As in we're living together now and he wants to live together somewhere else. But still together. With Arthur. Arthur is by no means an expert but he thinks he is maybe edging out of the work hookup territory here.

Still, he decides not to bring it up. Maybe Eames just said it as a spur of the moment thing. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe Arthur is a coward, who's to say. But moments like this keep happening so maybe he didn't misread it. Or imagine it. Both of which are a very strong possibility.

Like once, Eames 'puts his foot down' as he later paraphrases it, and demands that Arthur buys earl grey. "You know I like coffee as much as the next man." he says, immediately shaking his head at himself. "Actually, scratch that, I don't like coffee all that much. I prefer tea because I'm a walking talking stereotype and not a savage puritarian who couldn't handle how ghastly europe had become and had to board a ship to found his own country."

'you know I'm not part of a founding family, right?' Arthur writes down.

"Of course I know that, I'm trying to make a point."

'my parents aren't even from america. I was barely born here.' He keeps going.

"Darling, yes, I know, I just tried to get my point across, which is-"

'buy more tea?' Arthur holds up the notepad with a questioning stare.

"No, it's buy tea, period. And when did you write that? Did you write that even before I started talking?" Eames asks incredulous.

'you are a walking talking stereotype' Arthur puts down.

"You know they say you catch more flies with honey than, ehm... insults?" Eames replies weakly.

'I don't have to catch you, I have you.' Arthur laughs.

"Alright alright, you seem pretty sure of yourself but I'm telling you now, if you are planning to keep all this," and here he gestures at his entire body, "you better start buying tea."

Arthur laughs and doesn't think too much about the implications of having and keeping and all that. But he does buy tea. And also marmite because he's overeager and it turns out they both hate it. The marmite, not the overeagerness. They haven't discussed that.

 

*****

 

Around the one and a half month mark they are lazing on the couch after a drawn out lunch not-date and having a very heated argument determining if quesadillas should contain cheese or not.

'it's right there in the name! QUESAdilla!' Arthur writes, exasperated.

"Yeah but that's like saying a pizza has to have cheese!" Eames shrugs.

'IF IT IS A CHEESE PIZZA THAT WOULD BE EXPECTED!'

Eames scans the words and laughs. "Oh yeah, apropos, I need new smokes.'

'apropos of what' Arthur writes and Eames laughs again.

"I recon the shops are closed by now, maybe we can get some tomorrow morning."

'or maybe you could just stop smoking.' Arthur writes sourly, decisively not pouting over not losing a non-argument with his deaf... _mate_ who also happens to have the attention span of a fruit fly.

"Yeah, easy to say for the guy who got me started in the first place." Eames huffs, laying his head down in Arthurs lap.

Arthur frowns at him. " _You_ got _me_ started." He says and then writes it down and shows it to Eames.

The brit frowns back at him, equally confused. "No." he says. "No, no, you got _me_ started. Because you used to go outside to have a smoke with Mal. And I started smoking to join you. Because I fancied you."

'I only had a smoke with Mal once and that was when she first introduced us and it was a fake smoke to talk about your ass in privat.'

Eames scans the words and looks up at Arthur for a long time. "That explains why you were caughing so much in the beginning." he laughs, "I practised, you know? On the day you went outside with Mal I bought a pack of cigarrets and then I smoked the entire thing before morning so I could look cool in front of you."

And Arthur remembers that day. When Eames, all charm and lips, had asked him to join him for a smoke. And Arthur had practically flewn out of the warehouse they were working in and then made a show of looking for his non existing cigarretes. And Eames had offered him one of his own and had held the lighter for him and it had been a good day. The first real smoke for both of them, apparently. And it had led to more days of the like, where they were passing the lighter back and forth with lingering touches or sharing a cigarette or flat out making out in some back alley.

'you're an idiot.' Arthur writes, smiling at the memory. Then he scratches it out and changes it to 'we are idiots.' Which is a whole lot more fitting for their situation right now.

"Yeah, well, some things never do change-" Eames starts and is rudely interrupted when Arthur shows him a new note that says 'you like me!' with the word _like_ circled and underlined.

Arthur is already laughing his ass off and Eames joins in, saying, "I'd be a lot more embarrased about it if I didn't know you have stolen at least one of my sweaters and kept it, weirdo!"

Arthur flicks Eames on the forehead, making the other man wince and laugh even more, then he slides his hand into Eames hair and lets it settle there. When Eames calms down enough to look up at him again he smiles. It's a soft smile, a small thing Eames doesn't show too often. Then he closes his eyes.

That night, when Arthur is kissing Eames neck and shoulder, frantically losing his rythm while thrusting into the other man, he is glad of the explosion for the first time. And no, it's not because it impaired Eames to the point of making him dependant on Arthur, forcing them to spend time together without distractions. That would be messed up. And also Eames wasn't really dependant on him after the first few days. They just made the mutual, silent decision that he stays.

No, he's glad because he comes inside him and mumbles "I love you." into his ear. And then when he reaches around and starts pumping Eames dick, he keeps saying it, over and over, an endless stream of "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you" and Eames doesn't hear a word of it.

Then he spills over his hand and crashes down on the bed, Arthur still on top of him. And then Arthur thinks he dodged a bullet there. Or maybe it's Eames who dodged the bullet, because without the orgasmic haze fogging his mind, Arthur shoves all these traitorous emotions back down into the crevices of his mind, to be bottled up where they belong.

After the next job, Eames will be off again. To Mombasa or Peru or wherever it is a glaring sun and marked cards are calling his name. And Arthur will wear his suits again and slick back his hair and when they meet, in hotel rooms between jobs, the time they spend together now will make for a good laugh. A fond rememberance of _remember when I got blown up?_ Or _do you still have the sweater, mate? That's jokes._ And everything will go back to normal.

Bringing emotions like love into this would mess everything up and they are just not about that life. Even though Arthur doesn't doubt that Eames loves him. In a way. Maybe not in the way Arthur wants but as a friend at least. As a reliable business partner. As someone he is willing to get intimate with but also entertain a friendly relationship. Which is when it hit's Arthur that he is, esentially, a fuckbuddy.

Is there a kind of love between fuckbuddies? Is that a thing? Or is Arthur the victim of a one sided romance that he couldn't shake since the tender age of nineteen?

Fuck if he knows.

 

*****

 

It's another good while before Arthurs phone alarm goes off, reminding them of Eames check up. A good while of Arthur being handsy and clingy and a mess because of the tiny voice inside his head, constantly reminding him that their time is coming to an end.

Anyway, Eames looks at the phone screen over Arthurs shoulder and freezes. "Six weeks already?" He says, in a strange voice.

'any improvement?' Arthur writes in the notes of his phone. Eames doesn't answer, just runs his toungue over his front teeth for a while and then gets out of bed and disappears into the bathroom.

It kind of hits both of them that day, that they've been living in the luxury of ignorance for over a month now. Eames hearing didn't improve and neither of them brought it up. And now it's time for a checkup and his eardrums should've healed. But they haven't. And that means that maybe they won't. Ever.

Arthur gets up and starts the coffee maker and then calls them a cap to take them to the hospital later. Then he checks in on Eames, who is brushing his teeth in the bathroom and startles when he sees Arthur appear in the mirror.

"Fuck." He curses and spits.

'don't worry.' Arthur types in his phone and shows it to him.

"How am I supposed to not worry, love?" He adds the endearment to soften his otherwise agitated tone but it doesn't really do the trick.

'let's just wait what the doctor says.'

"Yeah." Eames sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, sure."

What the doctor says is, essentially, let's give it a few more weeks but your hearing loss seems to be permanent but we told you that that was a possibility so you can't sue us.

Eames doesn't take it too well.

He slams every door they encounter on their way home and then sits down at the kitchen table to brood. When Arthur comes up behind him and rests his hands on his shoulders he shakes him off annoyed.

'maybe it just needs more time?' Arthur writes down and slides the notepad across the table. Eames doesn't even look up after reading it.

'the doctors said they could remove some of the scar tissue with an operation. that's good.'

"Bloody brilliant." Eames mutters still directed at the table.

'I already messaged Cob. You have all the time you need.'

"What do you mean, you messaged Cob?" Eames says with barely contained anger.

'I canceled the job.' Arthur writes slowly. He's unsure of what to do here.

"Why would you cancel a job for me?" Eames teeth are clenched.

'you can't forge someone without a voice '

Eames reads the message and pushes his chair away from the table. "I see, and that's enough reason to treat me like a child."

'I didn't mean to-' Arthur starts writing but is interrupted when Eames snatches the notebook from his hands and throws it across the room. Then he starts pacing so naturally Arthur gets up as well and now this whole thing feels like an actual fight between more than collegues.

"You know, I'm wondering, Arthur." Eames says, laughing now, but it's a cruel sound. "Have you been enjoying this? Hm? Being holed up in here? Caged in in your flat? Did you like playing house with me?! Yeah? _It's gonna be alright, Eames. Take all the time you need, Eames._ You wanna keep playing fucking pretend while my life goes down the drain? I can never work again! You think this is some kind of big joke?" He's lashing out left and right, like a wounded animal. The only thing missing is foam spewing out of his mouth to accompany his venomous words.

And Arthur knows he doesn't mean it. He knows he's hurt and afraid and trying to make sense out of all of these emotions but none of that matters. None of that matters when Eames get's right up in his face and hisses, "Do you think I want to be your kept boy, hm? Do you think I want that? Do you think I want _this_?" And he gestures between them at the last word.  _This_ is them, Eames and Arthur. Or just Arthur, period.

Now, Arthur has read a lot of books and seen a lot of romcoms and he knows, in theory, what a heartbreak is supposed to feel like, but nothing could've prepared him for the kind of hurt that hits him then. The ice setteling in his stomach and his heart beating, beating and then stopping and aching in agony.  
  
His eyes start to prickle and he furrows his brows and digs a finger into Eames chest. "Fuck you." he says, thrusting that Eames will get the sentiment without hearing the words.

The other man visibly deflates. "Arthur, no." He says in a quite voice, shaking his head. "No, I didn't-" but this time Arthur cuts him off by going to their- to _his_ bedroom. He goes to _his_ bedroom in _his_ flat and collects all of the items his _guest_ has left lying about the floor. Then he opens the front door and throws them into the hallway. He knows it's a petty move but he... Fuck. He's scared and hurt as well and he wants Eames to comfort him, like he's always done. He want's Eames to say it's alright love. He wants Eames, period. But Eames doesn't want him back.

Arthur was convenient. Arthur was there. Arthur was maybe even a friend, but nothing else. How embarrassing for him to think this is anything more than what it was, what it has been scince the army.

Eames face is stoic, his full lips pressed together and he's not saying anything now but he has said everything anyway.

Arthur points to the door and Eames swallows and shakes his head again.

But Arthur doesn't budge, his own gaze hard. Better hurting than hurt. Better hard and unforgiving than soft and crying over his own stupidity.

"Out." He says, slow and over pronounced so there is no mistaking what he is telling Eames.

And Eames goes.

He picks up all of his clothes, which weren't that many to begin with, and walks down the hallway in silence. He doesn't turn around. Arthur closes the door to his flat once he can't hear Eames footsteps echo down the hall anymore.

And then he's alone.

 

*****

 

The days after their… not-breakup, Arthur is fine. He isn't eating icecream by the bucket and he isn't watching love, actually and he isn't listening to Adele on repeat.

He's fine. They weren't- he wasn't- they weren't a _thing_. There was no _thing_ between them. And because there was no _thing_ there was no breakup and Arthur is fine.

He just goes back to wearing his expensive suits and slicking back his hair and being a brilliant pointman. No harm done. Except when it's two months later and he has to cancel his 'plus one' for his sisters wedding.

"Really? Noone?" She asks. "What about that guy you wanted to introduce to me? "

Arthur snorts. "I didn't want to introduce you, you are just to nosy for your own good."

There's a long pause at the other end. "Is he ugly?" His sister asks, "Is that it?"

Arthur can hear her smile and he misses her. He misses her and maybe he had wanted to take Eames to her wedding. Fuck, he'd wanted to introduce Eames to his family. That is so messed up.

"No." He says, "Anything but. He's just not... Well he's noone I'd introduce to you anymore."

"Oh."

"No, don't 'Oh' me-" Arthur starts but is interrupted by her laughter.

"Well you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. I'll leave your plus one and you can bring your rebound."

"Alright, Rachel, I'm hanging up now." He says smiling before hastily ending the call.

But later he thinks that she's right. He just got caught up with Eames, he doesn't love him or anything, he just hasn't slept with someone else in a while. A very long while. Now that he thinks about it his last not-Eames-hookup was a guy called Michael Harris who he met in the army at the tender age of eighteen. Roughly a month before his nineteenth birthday. Roughly two months before meeting Eames. Oh god, he hasn't hooked up with anyone except for Eames since he met him. Oh no. That's bad.

But it's not a problem, he's just going to clear Eames out if his life now and get himself out there. He's good looking. He can get some.

Yeah.

Clearing Eames out of his life is easier said than done though, because as he is making up his mind to get laid, he's wearing the brits army sweater. And as he goes through his flat to collect all Eames-related possesions he just gets depressed about not seeing him again.

There are a ton of notebooks lying everywhere with Arthurs side of all their conversations written down and he can picture Eames face as he replies to him. Some of the pages have little drawings too, like the first one from the hospital, little naked Arthur and Eames and a lot of hearts. And a very realistic edging of Arthur making coffee in his kitchen. Then there are some that he didn't know about, like a drawing of him, sleeping, or an entire page filled with hearts with the letters A&E in it.

The last one really gets to Arthur and the regret of throwing the forger out hits him all at once, like a tidal wave. They could've had something, but Arthur messed it up. And now he doesn't know where Eames is and he can't contact him and everything is shit.

That night has Arthur eating icecream in Eames sweater and listening to a breakup playlist he doesn't remember creating that has hits like Adeles Hello, Katy Perrys The One That Got Away and, surprisingly, Abbas The Winner Takes It All.

He's still wallowing in self pity when he stumbles over Eames wallet that must've been kicked beneath his bed at some point. It contains a fake ID of one Jeremy Henrikson, a wad of around eight thousand yen and a picture of Eames, Arthur and Mal in their early twenties. When he takes the picture out he discovers that the part depicting Dom has been folded over which makes him smile. On the backside it says Brussels and an estimated date and then also their names, with a little heart next to Arthur.

Arthur stares at it for a long time. That's Eames and him in the very beginning of... of everything.

He doesn't really have a choice after that, he just packs a suitcase, his motions mechanical, and starts thinking of a heartfelt apology to make Eames forgive him. And he may not know where the other man is exactly, but he has his mothers name now and if he has to make a fool of himself and go and ask Eames mother about her sons whereabouts, he will.

 

*****

 

Misses Tuppence Addington-Eames predictably lives in England so Arthur has the entire flight to practice his apology speech in sign language. At the end of it, he feels he has the basics down and he is hopeful that Eames is going to forgive him.

Of course, as soon as he arrives at Eames Manor, yes _Manor_ , with a capital M, he is faced with the major problem that is an insane amount of security around the entire premisis. What is he supposed to say to get in? _Hi, your son has been fucking me for a bit over ten years and I just realized we probably love each other, may I come in?_

He is nervously sweating in front of the gates, still considering if he should straight up lie his way in, when a ridiculously large limousine comes to a stop right next to him and a window starts rolling down. Busted. Should he make a run for it? Or will they release the hounds? Do they have hounds? Could Arthur outrun a hound? Probably not, so he turns around with a shy smile and is greeted by the strangest sight of his live.

Looking back at him is a man who is about Eames age and who looks a lot like him but also doesn't at all. His nose is wider, his brows stronger, his hair darker. The first thought in Arthurs mind is that Eames really is an amazing forger. The second, more sane thing he can think of is that he has to be one of Eames relatives.

"Arthur?" The man asks, his too thin lips curving into a confused smile.

"Ehm... Hi?" Arthur returns, just as confused, but this man could get him into the house so he doesn't bring up that fact that they have never met before.

"My god," the man laughs a bit as he gets out of the car, "yes, hi. It's so good to finally meet you." He shakes Arthurs hand and holds the car door for him to get in. Which Arthur does. Even if the man is a stranger who ominously knows his name and the possibility of being cruesomely murdered remains.

They make their way down the driveway at a snails pace and that means more confusing conversation with not-Eames.

"He didn't even tell us you were coming, can you believe that?" He says and Arthur is assuming he is talking about Eames now. "Leave it to my little brother to forget to mention something like that. We would've picked you up from the airport, of course! God, sometimes I could throttle him to death, I swear. The impression you must have of us now!"

The man is laughing but Arthur still feels it's his duty to intercept. "He... he doesn't know I'm here, actually."

The other man goes quiet. "Oh," he says after a long pause. "I thought you had made up." Arthur is considering jumping out of the car because this conversation is getting stranger and stranger when the mood suddenly lightens up again. "I think it's grand of you to make the first step." He says in a solem voice. "I know he can be a bit thick headed at times but he doesn't mean it. It's just... a big change. For both of you, I'm sure."

Arthur nods slowly. God, how long is this goddamn driveway? But just as he's thinking it the car stops. The Manor is.… well it's a Manor. In every sense of the word. It's made of old brick with stone steps leading up to a massive entrance door. And Arthur is greeted by an honest to god butler who takes his suitcase.

Not-Eames is stormed by two little girls shouting daddy in the most british accent known to mankind. He hugs them really tight before introducing Arthur. "You sit tight girls, because I have presents for you." He adds in a mock stern voice. "I'm just going to show Arthur to uncle Cleos room, alright?"

Arthurs day keeps getting stranger as he is led up some stairs to the east wing, apparently. The walls are decorated in framed photos of Eames and his brother. One of them as toddlers and next to it, the two of them as small children dressed up as knights. One of what must be Eames graduation and then him in his army slacks. A big picture of Eames brother and his wife on their wedding day and beneath that, Arthur and Eames. Arthur is looking straight into the camera while Eames, in the C.Eames sweater is smiling at him from the side.

Arthur is convinced his plane crashed and now he is dead and that's why none of this is making sense. Or maybe he's in limbo. Maybe this is what was left behind by Cobb and Saito. Or maybe Eames is in limbo with him! Or maybe-

"He should be in there." Eames brother says, gesturing at a door. "He said he wanted to lie down for a bit but don't hesitate to wake him, his mooning has been grating on our nerves ever since he came home." The man leaves him with a shrug and a smile no doubt to return to his daughters.

Arthur stares at the door in front of him. It's a good door. Nice off-white colour, good wood grain. He could stare at this door forever. Or he could still make a run for it. The butler has his luggage and ID and money but he could make do.

In the end, his hand moves forward on autopilot and turns the doornob. And then he's inside, closing the door unnecessarily softly as not to wake Eames, who is indeed sleeping. Arthur slowly sits down on the matress and the forger blearily opens his eyes.

"Hey." Arthur says, waving a bit. Then he get's a crumpled sheet of paper out of his chest pocket that has his text and the according signs on it. "This is probably weird, but I tracked down your mom to find you and now I'm here and I'm sorry for throwing you out." He accompanies his words by signing along with his hands.

"Before you say anything, I like you. I really, really like you. Actually, I love you and that's why I say yes every time you want me on a job and that's why I waited in the hospital and it's why I wanted to take you to my sisters wedding and why I kept the stupid sweater. And my sister said I should bring a rebound to her big day instead but I had my last hookup before I met you and I've been monogamous ever since which must also seem weird but I didn't even realize it myself. You've just always been the person I wanted to be with and I feel like maybe you want to be with me too and if not, at least tell me now so I can move on and maybe there's a goodbye blowjob in it for you. And I'm sorry I cancelled the job with Cobb I thought I was doing you a favour and Cobb is an asshole anyway and-"

"You learned sign language." Eames interrupts him, sitting up. " _I_ didn't even learn sign language, and I'm the deaf one."

Arthur is not sure how to reply so he just sits there, dumbstruck.

"I think there was something about blowjobs though and I'm gonna come back to that. But before that I'm sorry, ok? I said some awfull things because I was scared out of my mind."

Arthur shakes his head and Eames shoulders fall. His suggestive smile turns into a frown and he scratches his beard. "Listen, love-" Arthur doesn't let him finish. He came here to apologize and not to be apologized to and this turn of events is going to overthrow his entire plan. So he turns the piece of paper so Eames can read it.

The forgers brows furrow the more he reads until he looks up at Arthur again. "Are you telling me that we are not, in fact, in a relationship? Because then the pictures of us in my family home are just creepy and stalker-ish."

'how can we be in a relationship if we haven't talked in weeks?' Arthur writes at the backside of his text.

"All couples have their ups and downs." Eames shrugs.

'I didn't know we were a couple.'

Eames rubs his face. "Yeah I just noticed and I feel like a proper idiot for telling my family about my boyfriend now."

'You never mentioned your family.' Arthur adds sheepishly.

The stare he gets in return is incredulous. "You are the most brilliant point man in the business. I had assumed you knew everything about me the minute it was clear we would be working together. I thought you just weren't ready to meet them because of commitment issues or something!"

'I never looked you up.' Arthur admits.

"Well why the bloody hell not?"

'I wanted to know what you would tell me yourself. I thought you never telling me anything meant I was-' here Arthur hesitates, 'a fuckbuddy?'

"A fuckbuddy?! Arthur, I have been in love with you since you caughed your way through your first cigarrette!" Eames laugh is self depracating and Arthurs heart breaks a little.

'I love you since that time Mal discreetly told me I still had your spunk on my sleeve and you laughed so much you started crying.' Arthur writes hastily.

Eames humms. "But not enough to be commited, apparently."

'I couldn't fathom that you would want me back so I didn't want to get invested! I didn't think I could recover from you not wanting me!' Eames stares at the paper blankly so Arthur adds 'I still don't think I could.'

"Of course I want you." Eames sighs, finally meeting his eye. "I'm just discovering that my boyfriend isn't my boyfriend and also that you are a lot less uptight than I thought."

Eames looks sad and exhausted and Arthur never wants to be the cause for that look. He falls back on the blowjob gesture and Eames huffs a small laugh and punches his shoulder a little harder than necessary, which is fair enough.

"You are an idiot." Eames says.

Arthur reaches for his pen to answer but the other man stops him. "Actually, I had two operations done in my left ear and-" He rummages through his nightstand until he finds what looks like an ear piece. "and I have a hearing aid like the grumpy old man I am deep inside." He chuckles as he puts it in. "So if you get real close and don't use any outlandish words you can talk to me."

Arthur leans into him and says "Im sorry." and Eames huffs. "And I love you. And I didn't know you were my boyfriend but I never even liked anyone else so I hope it still counts."

"Jury is still out." Eames replies begrudgingly and kisses him.

And Arthur will do his best to sway said jury in his favour so instead of kissing back like a mad man, the way he wants to right now, he tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of Eames neck and makes it soft and slow. He pushes his toungue into Eames mouth slow but insisting and nips at his full bottom lip as if they had all the time in the world. And they have, he realizes. So they make out in a way they haven't since Arthur was sporting a high and tight. Fresh out of the army and fresh into dreamsharing and also into Eames arms. Back then he imagined the world to be a lot easier and he feels, for the first time in so, so long that it could be again.

Eames pulls him down on the matress and Arthur goes willingly, covering Eames body with his own while his hands sneak beneath the forgers shirt. "God, I missed you." Eames breathes and Arthur nods and starts on his buttons. He kisses the chest that is revealed to him and then down and down and down, unbuttoning Eames trousers and taking him in his mouth. He worries his foreskin with his toungue in the way he knows drives Eames crazy and is rewarded with a quiet moan. Then he laves up and down his shaft and he is convinced he could do this for the rest of his life but Eames grabs his hair and pulls him back up.

Arthur is straddeling him when Eames starts searching through his nightstand again and victoriously holds up a bottle of lube a second later. "Why do you have lube here if I am your boyfriend?" Arthur speaks into his ear, shimmying out of his own pants gracelessly.

"I'm a helpless optimist, I guess." Eames replies, coating his fingers and guiding them between Arthurs cheeks. Then he traces his hole and Arthur moans and presses their dicks together. Eames pushes his hips up and establishes a slow rythm while he works his finger inside.

Arthur ravishes the other mans neck and chest and everywhere he can reach from his perch on his lap and gets more and more enthusiastic as one finger turns into two, then three. He gently bites beneath Eames left ear and moans "Fuck me."

Eames gladly oblieges and coats his dick and then guides Arthur onto it slowly, so slowly he almost loses his mind. It feels like their first kiss behind a dumpster in Rio or their first fuck in a hotel room in Madrid and simultaneously like something brand new. Like they are finally on the same page after all these years. Eames is no longer giving a bit too much or Arthur not quite enough, they are meeting in the middle and if Arthur could live in this feeling for the rest of his life, he would.

Arthur rides him slowly and Eames thrusts up into him in the same unhurried pace. The bedframe rocks back and forth with them lazily and Arthur would be worried about someone hearing them if this house wasn't so ridiculously big.

"Fuuuck" Arthur moans, drawn out into Eames ear. And Eames thrusts up more forcefully and says "I feel like this is more of a 'making love' sort of situation." and Arthur gasps and pushes down because yes, yes, _yes_ they are making love, they are in love and they have been for so long. Arthur goes a bit frantic at that thought and angles his hips so Eames graces his prostate with every thrust and it's good, so good. And then it gets better when Eames puts his feet to the matress and finally has some real leverage and god, yes. He starts pumping his dick in time with Eames thrusts and comes after maybe five strokes and takes Eames with him, clenching down while he chases his own orgasm.

Afterwards he rolls off of him lazily and scoots his pants back up from where they are tangled around one of his ankles. Eames rights his own clothes as much as he feels necessary and then they lie together, shirts torn open and drenched in sweat. Arthurs breathing evens out slowly and the post orgasmic high drains out of him in favour of uncertainty. What is going to happen now? Is Eames going to send him home? Was this a goodbye or a hello for them?

"So you actually don't know my name." Eames muses after a while, stopping Arthur from spiraling into panic. When Arthur turns his head Eames is staring wistfully at the ceiling. Then he clears his throat and meets his gaze and smiles a bit. "Hello," he says, "my name is Cleophas Theodesius Ichabod Ethelbert Danforth Danforth Eames the third."

Arthurs eyes go wide but when Eames says "It's okay, you can laugh." he shakes his head. Instead, he crowds in so he can speak into Eames good ear. "Hello Cleophas, I'm Yechezkel Arthur Chizkiyahu Demski." And then they both start giggling. "No way." Eames says and Arthur nods and they both laugh some more.

Once they've calmed down Arthur says, "So what happens now, Cleophas?"

"Well, Yechezkel," Eames replies, even doing the hard ch-sound and all, "I am glad you ask. First of all, would you like to be my boyfriend?" He waits for Arthur to nod and continues, "Good, then I think my family is dying to meet you."

"What, now?!" Arthur aks, looking at him with big eyes.

"Well it might be a bit sudden for you but they have been waiting for an entire decade, love." Arthur nods and lets Eames pull him out of bed. "Just to give you a quick heads up," the brit adds, "I lost my hearing in an explosion that happened in the army, which I never left only now I am retired with an honourable discharge. We also met in the army, I was besotted the moment I saw you and you lost yourself in my beautiful eyes. You left the force to work as an accountant for big names like Cobol and the sort and because you travel a lot you just never made it to any family gathering which you deeply regret, but now that I am compromised you took some time off to take care of me. Sound good?"

Arthur squints at him while Eames buttons up both their shirts. "Honourable discharge?" He says to the conman. But Eames doesn't know he's speaking so he doesn't catch it. When he looks up Arthur repeats himself, louder.

"Yes, darling, I am a forger or did you forget?" He laughs and kisses him throughoutly.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize I am late to the fandom but please enjoy the first lenghty fic I've ever written (or finished).
> 
> It's unbetaed, it's been sitting in my drafts for more than half a year, but I'm proud. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it. (Tell me if you did)


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